


The French Bug

by CrystineDecepticon



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Heroic Decepticons, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystineDecepticon/pseuds/CrystineDecepticon
Summary: Autobots and Decepticons alike are plagued by a strange affliction. Will they be able to reverse its effects before it's too late?
Kudos: 22
Collections: Heroic Decepticons Humorous One Shots





	The French Bug

**Author's Note:**

> Original publish date: 16 March 2017. Revised: 24 September, 2019.

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

Red Alert stared intently at Teletraan I. There had been no warnings lately, nor any signs of trouble; not even a peep from the Decepticons or their usual antics. Despite this lack of activity, the security director remained on alert, always skeptical. It was his job to ensure the safety of the base, and he knew from experience that, sometimes, the quietest of days often proved to be the most troublesome.

“Why don’t you take a break, Red? Staring at those monitors all day is going to fry your optics,” his best friend, Inferno, suddenly said from behind him, jolting him from his concentration.

“I can’t leave my post. There’s no one around to take over for me,” Red Alert replied, keeping his focus on the monitors.

Inferno walked up to him, peering over the security officer’s shoulder at the data displayed in front of him. “I’m sure we can find _someone_ …” He trailed off, as he recalled the number of Autobots who had recently taken a few days off duty. He couldn’t remember seeing Sunstreaker or Sideswipe around headquarters lately, nor Tracks, for that matter. He was sure there were others, too.

Perceptor, however, was not one of them. He took his duties seriously and rarely liked to take any time out for himself, particularly when he was right in the middle of an exciting new project. Exciting by his standards, no doubt.

The Autobot scientist strode into the main area, barely noticing the two of them.

“What’s the hurry, Perceptor?” Inferno asked him, as the scientist rummaged through some of Ratchet’s tools on a nearby work bench.

Preceptor looked up at him briefly. “Ah. Inferno. I’m just after a circuit analyser.” As he continued his search for the sought after item, Wheeljack and Bluestreak entered the large room.

“Say, where is everyone? It's sure quiet around here.” Wheeljack, the engineer, looked around the room as he held his chin in thought.

“Hound’s gone sightseeing with Trailbreaker, Smokescreen and Mirage have gone off to Primus knows where, and I haven’t heard from Jazz since yesterday afternoon. What gives?” Bluestreak added, but no one had any answers for him.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing, actually,” Inferno said.

Curious, Wheeljack walked over to Perceptor, observing the small black gadget the scientist had picked up. “What are you up to, Perceptor?”

“Oh, I’ve been asked by Optimus Prime to help with a little project for the Robotics Laboratory,” he replied, holding the analyser contentedly. “Well, I have what I came for.” He gave them all a polite nod and then left, quietly making his way back down the main hall.

“Huh. Wonder what that’s all about?” Wheeljack said out loud, once Perceptor had disappeared, feeling a little disappointed that he’d apparently been left out of the interesting new project.

*

Back in his private laboratory, Perceptor connected the prototype module he’d been working on to Teletraan I and, using the circuit analyser in his microscope mode, began to collect the feedback data. Satisfied, he was pleased with his efforts so far. Now, all he had to do was run the final test.

He was so intent on his task that he didn’t notice the Autobot standing at the entrance, peering in. “Wheeljack, what can I do for you?” he asked, transforming back into robot mode.

“Uh, nothin’ much. Was just wondering if you needed some help. I’ve got some free time, you know?” the engineer said in earnest.

“Oh, that’s very generous of you, Wheeljack,” Perceptor replied. “Perhaps you’d like to help me test out the multi-lingual artificial intelligence module?”

Wheeljack shrugged, stepped inside the lab before Perceptor had even finished speaking. “Sure. So, what's it supposed to do, exactly?”

Perceptor disconnected the module from the computer and handed it to Wheeljack. “Here, let me show you.”

Wheeljack felt a slight buzzing sensation in his vocalizer as the module was placed in his hand, and he hurriedly put it down on the work bench.

“Is something the matter?” Perceptor asked with concern.

Wheeljack carefully picked up the module again, dismissing the odd sensation as just a minor glitch. “Nah. I probably just need to get my sensory circuits checked out, that’s all,” he said. “So, about this module?”

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ _somewhere on the North American mainland_

“Hey Frenzy, how’s about we go annoy some Autobots?” Rumble suggested, looking at his twin. They had both completed their assigned task an hour ago, and were looking for something else to do.

Frenzy looked back at him doubtfully. “I dunno. Soundwave’ll be back any minute.”

But his twin’s doubt only made Rumble all the more eager. “We could do a stakeout on their base, maybe catch 'em out doing something illegal–” He broke off mid-sentence as his transmitter was activated.

“Rumble?” Megatron’s voice came through on his com link.

The blue cassetticon spoke into his forearm. “This is Rumble.”

“As soon as you and Frenzy have completed recalibrating the new satellite control terminal, I have another job for you two. Meet us in the conference room.”

Rumble glanced at Frenzy, who was listening in on the conversation. “We’ll be right there,” he said, deactivating the com. He started to head out into the hallway that led to the main control center, motioning for Frenzy to follow him. “Let’s go.”

*

As the two Cassetticons entered the conference room, they saw that Megatron and the other Decepticons were already gathered. Thundercracker and Skywarp were sharing a joke between them, while Starscream conferred with Megatron about the latest Autobot activities. Also present were Soundwave, and the Combaticon leader, Onslaught.

The two latest arrivals took their places beside Soundwave, and the meeting got underway.

“As most of you are aware, the humans have recently partnered with the Autobots in their latest joint project, the so-called Robot Controlled Artificial Intelligence Multi-Lingual Program,” Starscream informed them.

“Sounds real fancy. Wonder what it’s supposed to do,” Thundercracker said with sarcasm.

“That’s why I’ve gathered you all here,” Megatron replied. “I want us to find out what it is.”

“Why would we care to know about the humans’ primitive technology?” Onslaught queried uncertainly.

“Because, Onslaught, the Autobots seem to have a guarded interest in it,” Megatron replied. “And if the Autobots have an interest in it, then so do we.” The fact that the Autobots had managed to keep their latest project a secret from the Decepticons presented enough cause for concern.

“The last time the Autobots partnered with the humans, they unleashed a swarm of drones over the planet they couldn't control, and ended up needing our help to get rid of them,” Thundercracker reminded them.

“Those drones made good target practice, at least,” Skywarp said, grinning.

“And who can forget that little Nightbird incident?” Onslaught added in jest.

“Indeed,” Starscream said dryly. “We should find out everything we can about their latest endeavour, so we can be prepared in case there are any more… incidents.”

Megatron nodded in agreement. “Soundwave, go to Autobot Headquarters and learn what they are planning to do with the humans’ technology. Take Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage and Laserbeak with you,” Megatron ordered.

“Yes, Megatron.”

“The Combaticons will provide backup. Starscream, Thundercracker and Skywarp; you three will accompany me to the Robotics Laboratory to find out all we can about this technology,” the Decepticon leader said. Then he stood up and walked towards the exit, before turning back to focus his gaze upon the black and purple seeker. “And Skywarp… no more hijacking the humans’ air shows for a laugh,” he said, though with a half-smile. “We don’t want to draw unecessary attention to ourselves.”

Skywarp feigned innocence. “But the crowd loved me,” he said, gesturing with open palms as the others suppressed chuckles.

Thundercracker looked at his trine mate thoughtfully. “I gotta admit, though, that was funny.”

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

A few hours later, the Combaticons descended from the sky and touched down in the desolate landscape that surrounded the Autobots’ headquarters in the heart of the American Northwest, while Megatron and the trine of seekers continued further south.

Transforming into their vehicle modes, Onslaught led the gestalt team towards the Ark. As it came into view, he slowed to a stop and Soundwave jumped out of his driver’s seat, transforming into robot mode as he did so. “Just let us know if you need us,” he said to the communications specialist.

Soundwave opened his chest compartment, and four mini-cassettes ejected and transformed in mid-air, one after the other. “Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Laserbeak: operation espionage.”

Laserbeak flew up and away to gain access into the Ark from above. Ravage sprinted ahead, scanning the area to make sure it was all clear as Soundwave and the remaining two Cassetticons followed after him, moving towards the entrance as quickly as possible.

Soundwave stopped just outside, and checked for any active security monitors. He noted one on either side of the entrance, and deactivated them with two shots of his sonic blaster. This would help them avoid detection, at least for a few minutes. Once inside, they ran silently down the wide entry passage; after a few hundred mechano-meters or so, it stopped and separated into secondary passageways, each heading off in a different direction.

“Rumble, Frenzy, go that way. I’ll go this way,” he instructed, pointing them towards the right as he headed down the left-hand passage, and soon disappeared from sight.

“It sure seems kinda empty,” Rumble observed as the two of them made their way stealthily along the cavernous tunnel. “Is it always like this?”

“Who knows?” Frenzy replied, and then stopped short, placing a hand out in front of Rumble. “Wait. Do you hear something?” They listened quietly and, sure enough, the sound of a pair of Autobot voices floated towards them from the opposite end of the passage. The Autobots were laughing and talking in a lively fashion.

Rumble looked around for a place to hide, and hastily ran towards an adjoining tunnel. “Come on, this way!” he whispered to his twin, who quickly followed his lead. As they watched and waited for the pair of Autobots to pass, they couldn’t help but pick up on their conversation.

“How many times now have you avoided monitor duty, Sun?” one of them said.

“Pfft. Who’s counting?” the other responded. “And don’t call me Sun.”

“Prowl, probably. Besides, we got more important things to do.”

“Yeah, like getting Cliffjumper to use his glass gas on himself.”

The first Autobot laughed. “He’d never live that one down, that’s for sure.”

The second Autobot joined him in laughter, amused at some prank they were thinking of pulling on an unfortunate Cliffjumper.

Rumble sniggered at the thought of it, as Frenzy yanked him backwards before the Autobot pair could discover them.

“Careful, they’ll see us.” Frenzy led them into one of the Ark’s rooms off to the right of the passageway. Once the two Autobots had safely disappeared around the corner, the two mini-spies looked around the room. They had stumbled into a laboratory of some kind.

“Look at all this stuff,” Rumble said, as he scanned the items that were scattered atop a work bench. “Probably belongs to that geeky Autobot, what’s his name again?”

“You mean Pre-ceptor?” Frenzy said, trying to be helpful.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Rumble casually looked up at the display on Teletraan I’s computer monitor, and noticed something of interest. “Check this out: ‘Robot Controlled Artificial Intelligence Multi-Lingual Program’,” he read out loud.

“Hey, that’s it,” Frenzy said. Looking around, he saw a strange module resting on a work bench. It bore the tell-tale mark of something that had come out of one of Earth’s robotics laboratories; a small sticker on the side of it proclaimed: ‘Portland Robotic Systems and Design Laboratory – Prototype Model Version 1.20’. He picked up the module and, without a second thought, connected a data probe from his finger tip to the device, transferring the module’s instruction set into his memory banks. Once he was done, he disconnected it and placed it back on the counter. A sudden buzz in his circuits overwhelmed him for a split second, but he quickly recovered, shaking it off. “Let’s go tell Soundwave,” he said, as he and Rumble exited quietly out of the lab.

*

“Decepticons, I knew it!” Red Alert almost jumped out of his chair as the alarm went off on Teletraan I, alerting the entire base to unwelcome visitors. He turned around to look for the other Autobots, but only Bluestreak remained. “Where _is_ everybody?” He shook his head in exasperation, and then motioned for the Autobot gunner to follow him. “Come on, we must inform Optimus Prime.”

As they rushed along the Ark’s tunnels, Perceptor suddenly appeared around a corner, almost crashing into them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I almost didn’t see you. Is there an emergency?”

Red Alert nodded anxiously. “There are Decepticon intruders inside the Ark!”

“What – here?” Perceptor said, looking about in puzzlement. “But I would have noticed any intruders; the place is quieter than the aftermath of a tsunami–”

“I'm telling you we have intruders! Just follow me!” Red rushed ahead as Perceptor and Bluestreak sprinted after him.

“My lab!” Perceptor said in a moment of realization. “Someone must be after the prototype module!”

The three of them rushed down the hall and, turning right into Perceptor’s lab, kept their optics peeled for any unwanted visitors, but there were none to be found. Perceptor hurried over to the counter where he’d left the module and, to his relief, it was still there.

Wheeljack suddenly burst into the room, followed closely behind by Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

“What happened?” Wheeljack said. “We heard you shouting.” But before Red Alert could answer him, he suddenly held a hand up to his neck. “Uh… I feel kinda funny. Don’t feel so g–goo–” he began to stutter, unable to complete his sentence, and looked up at Perceptor for help. When he opened his mouth to speak again, no sound came out other than an intermittent, garbled noise, before his vocal unit suddenly stopped functioning altogether.

“Wheeljack?” Perceptor watched him curiously, as the Autobot engineer tried to speak, but to no avail.

“Huh. He seems to have lost his voice,” Sunstreaker said, stating the obvious. “What could have brought that on?”

Wheeljack looked at the twins and shrugged, shaking his head to tell them that he didn’t know.

“Hm. Most curious. Perhaps Ratchet should take a look at you.” Perceptor walked towards Wheeljack. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for it.”

Wheeljack nodded again and tried to speak but his efforts were futile. He was about to give up and head back to the main control room to find Ratchet when his vocalizer stuttered back to life. However, he was still not able to form any proper words. “Eh – ah–”

Perceptor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just a misalignment in your vocal processor. Ratchet will have you fixed up in no time.”

Wheeljack nodded in agreement, still holding his hand to his throat, and then tried speaking again. “M – Merci–” he stuttered a bit more, and then, finally, his vocalizer came back online. “Je vais bien, merci.”

“I beg your pardon – would you care to repeat that?” Perceptor said with a confused expression on his face. Suddenly, he felt a strange buzzing sensation in his throat, and instinctively pulled his hand away from Wheeljack’s shoulder.

Wheeljack looked quizzically back at him. “Je l’ai dit que je vais bien, Merci–”

Sunstreaker took a step back, his optics wide. “What the frag did he just say?”

Perceptor looked at the yellow Autobot warrior uncertainly, and then around at the others. Bluestreak and Sideswipe looked like they were in shock, while Red Alert’s anxiety had heightened by a considerable margin.

“It’s the Decepticons – they did this. I just know it!” the security expert proclaimed.

Wheeljack looked at Red quizzically. “Les Decepticons a fait quoi?” That’s when he suddenly became aware of the fact that something, somehow, was strangely wrong with his vocal unit, and that no one could understand what he was actually saying. “Attendez, que l’enfer j’ai juste dit?”

Perceptor looked back at Wheeljack, gave him an unassuming smile. “Oh, dear…”

*

Frenzy spotted Soundwave approaching them from the far end of the hallway. “Hey, Soundwave, I’ve got the data we were after. Mission accomplished,” he reported back proudly.

“Excellent, Frenzy. Let’s get out of here.” Soundwave opened his chest compartment as Ravage and Laserbeak returned to their guardian, transforming back into their cassette modes. Then he began to run down the passageway, followed by Rumble and Frenzy, always on the alert for any Autobots.

The three Decepticons had barely exited the Ark when Sideswipe and Sunstreaker appeared behind them, hot on their trail.

“It’s Soundwave and his two Decepti-brats. Let’s get ‘em!” Sunstreaker called out to his twin, who had already transformed into his car mode.

“Finally, we get to have some fun,” Sideswipe replied, revving his engine and taking off down the wide entranceway in pursuit of the intruders.

“Hey, leave some for me!” the yellow one called after him, catching up to his partner in crime.

Soundwave glanced behind him, and immediately realized that he wouldn’t be able to outrun the two Autobot cars. “Onslaught: assistance required,” he messaged over his com, and no sooner had he done so than Onslaught and the other Combaticons came into view, on the alert and ready for action.

Rumble looked back at the approaching Autobot duo and activated his pile drivers. “How about a little shake-up?” he said, as the ground vibrated underneath, simulating a sudden earth tremor, and the two pursuers swerved sharply to avoid colliding into a nearby rocky outcrop.

Two more Autobots ran out of the Ark; Rumble recognized them as Bluestreak and Wheeljack. They were calling out to the Autobot twins, but something sounded a bit wrong.

“Decepticons! Let’s get ‘em,” Bluestreak said, as he transformed into his car mode and sped ahead. Wheeljack followed his lead, and Rumble turned and bolted to get away from them.

“Arrêter!” the Autobot engineer called out to him, “Arrêter!”

“What was that, Auto-geek?” Rumble asked, confused, but didn’t bother waiting for a response; he didn’t particularly care about what Wheeljack had said, only that he and the Decepticons got away safely.

Within moments, Swindle swerved to a stop in front of him. “Jump in,” he said, and Rumble gratefully did so. He took his place in the front seat beside Frenzy and Soundwave, who were already inside the jeep.

More Autobots poured out of the Ark – Prowl, Ironhide, Red Alert and Inferno among them. Vortex and Blast Off provided a road block against them, while Onslaught and Brawl chased them off as best they could, still in their vehicle modes.

Once they’d driven far enough away from Autobot Headquarters Soundwave and the two Cassetticons jumped out of Swindle, and waited for the rest of the Combaticons to catch up. Then they all transformed into robot mode and took to the sky as the Autobots watched them escape.

*

_Robotic Systems and Design Laboratory, Portland_

“We’re almost there,” Starscream said to the others, as the seeker trine flew in formation behind Megatron. The Laboratory was located in an industrial complex; dotted with several office buildings and other large structures, it spanned several hectares and was set back from any built-up areas. Dropping effortlessly out of the sky, the four Decepticons touched down near the Lab’s main office building, and surveyed their surrounds; to their right, a large car park occupied most of the usable space, while an empty field to their left stretched out to the Lab’s perimeter.

“That must be it.” Thundercracker pointed to one of the larger structures directly in front of them, where a large banner was draped across its entrance. “’Robotic Systems and Design Laboratory, in partnership with the Autobots, presents Bravo – the Multi-Lingual Artificial Intelligence Robot’,” he read out loud.

“It looks like some kind of convention,” Skywarp noted. “Let’s check it out.”

The four of them approached the structure. It was large enough for them to walk straight inside through the front entrance; they were greeted with looks of awe and surprise as the humans hurriedly stepped out of their way, while others shouted in alarm.

"Do you think we should have warned them beforehand that we were coming?" Thundercracker asked dismissively, as he and Skywarp watched in amusement the small humans' panicked antics at their feet.

They stopped in front of a podium, where a giant robot prototype stood motionless, awaiting instructions.

“This must be Bravo,” Starscream said, looking upon the humans’ latest technological marvel with a critical optic, unimpressed. “I wonder what it does.”

“J – just talk to it. Bravo here will answer any questions you ask him, in any language!” The four Decepticons looked down towards the ground at the owner of the voice. It was a human with a microphone. A nametag hung prominently from a lanyard around his neck.

Starscream stared down at the man, while the other three Decepticons looked on in obvious amusement. “You mean – _this_ is what the Autobots have been helping you with?”

“Why – y – yes, it is.” The man was obviously putting up a brave front; it wasn’t very often that Decepticons ventured into public spaces like this, where it generally crawled with humans. Unlike the Autobots, who had allied themselves with several of the world's governments and prominent international organizations, the purpose and identity of the Decepticons' human contacts were a well-guarded secret.

“Well, in that case, we would like a demonstration,” Megatron said, with a look that told the man it would be unwise of him to refuse.

The man nodded, wide-eyed. “S – sure! We’re still waiting on the Autobots to help us complete the final testing of the instruction set – but this robot can–”

He was cut off in mid-sentence by Starscream. “Just get on with it. We don’t have all day!”

“O – okay,” the man answered, startled. By now, a large crowd had gathered to witness the impromptu event. He turned around to face Bravo and spoke directly up at the giant robot, his microphone held close. “Bravo, does sentient robotic life exist in the galaxy?”

Bravo’s robotic eyes lit up, and his vocal processor crackled to life. “Yes; sentient robotic life is known to exist on Cybertron.”

The man continued. “Bravo: translate into Spanish.”

“Vida robótica inteligente se sabe para existir en Cybertron,” Bravo obediently replied.

“Okay, thank you, Bravo. Now… uh, Swedish, please.”

Again, Bravo complied. “Kännande robotic livet är känt att existera på Cybertron.”

“Now, Bravo, answer in Japanese: what is the meaning of life?”

“汝自身を知ることを学ぶ.”

The man looked up at the Decepticons with pride.

“I suppose he speaks Cybertronian, too?” Skywarp queried playfully.

The man nodded emphatically. “Of course – thanks to the Autobots’ input.”

“Huh. Okay, let me try,” Thundercracker said, and then peered into Bravo’s eyes. “Alright, Bravo. What’s the Autobots’ greatest weakness? Oh, uh, answer in…”

“Swahili,” Skywarp butted in, eager to hear Bravo’s response.

Bravo answered Thundercracker’s question without a hitch. “Mahitaji yao mara kwa mara kwa ajili ya kuidhinishwa na wanadamu.”

“What did he just say?” Skywarp asked his companions.

“Don’t look at me; I don’t speak Swahili,” Thundercracker said.

“Bravo, who is the greatest Decepticon leader of all time?” Skywarp challenged Bravo.

Bravo responded dutifully. “Megatron.”

“Good answer,” the Decepticon leader remarked.

“And the only answer, if Bravo wants to keep his head,” Thundercracker said, amused.

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

Optimus Prime gave Perceptor a sullen look. The Decepticon intruders were long gone, but it seemed that now the Autobots had another problem on their hands. “Perceptor, what happened, exactly?”

The red and blue Autobot scientist opened his mouth to speak, but only gargled sounds came out. He shook his head, slightly embarrassed. A group of Autobots, assembled inside the main control room, looked on in hushed silence.

Wheeljack stepped in to try and help explain the situation. “Eh bien, c’est comme cela, Optimus…” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker turned their heads away, their hands covering their mouths in a valiant attempt to curb their sudden fits of laughter, yet failing miserably. Optimus did his best to ignore them. “Perceptor et moi, voyez-vous, nous testions le Robot prototype thingie, et–”

“Wheeljack–”

“Alerte Rouge nous a alertés à l’intrus de Decepticon, mais avant que nous ne pouvions arrêter eux que j’ai soudainement commencé à parler tout bizarre, comme–”

“Wheeljack!” Optimus interrupted him, impatient. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Is there anybody here who can translate?” But all he got were blank stares or shaking of heads as he looked around the room at the gathered Autobots.

Sunstreaker placed a hand upon Wheeljack’s shoulder in a mock gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry about it, Wheeljack. I’m sure someone’ll find a… um… _cure_.” Then he pulled his hand away suddenly, looking quizzically down at it, but he said nothing more.

Wheeljack ignored him, shaking his head dismissively at the yellow warrior’s enjoyment at his expense.

“Perceptor, are you able to talk?” Optimus said, returning his attention to the Autobot scientist.

Perceptor cleared his vocal processor, and tried to speak. This time, it seemed to be working. “Ah, oui, Prime…” He looked at Prime, unsure of what he’d just said. “Je pense que j’ai, euh – ce que je veux dire… Il semble y avoir quelque chose de mal avec mon processeur de langue…”

Prime looked at him concernedly. “Oh, no, not you, too.”

“Je suis désolé, Prime,” Perceptor replied, scratching his head.

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ _somewhere on the North American mainland_

The first thing Frenzy did when he returned to base was transfer the data he’d collected to Soundwave. The second thing he did was catch up with Rumble. He found the blue Cassetticon talking to Onslaught.

“So it’s some kind of self-aware, multi-lingual program?” the Combaticon leader asked, after Rumble had told him what they’d discovered inside Perceptor’s laboratory.

“Something like that. We’ll know more once Soundwave’s completed analysing the data,” Rumble replied.

“Hey, Rumble, Onslaught,” Frenzy said, walking up to them and joining the conversation. “The Autobots sure could do with – with–” Frenzy began to cough, holding a hand against his throat. “With – more–”

“Frenzy?” Rumble looked concernedly at his twin. “You okay?”

Frenzy shook his head no. He moved his mouth to try to speak, but his vocal unit was refusing to issue forth another sound. Rumble and Onslaught stared back at him in stunned silence.

“Is he okay? Should we… do something?” Onslaught suggested, peering down at the mini-spy.

“Uh, dunno. Frenzy?”

But Frenzy only continued his struggle against his malfunctioning vocal unit. Rumble looked up at the Combaticon. “I – I’d better go get help.” As he was about to leave, however, Frenzy grabbed his arm tightly and shook his head in protest; it was clear that he did not want Rumble to leave him alone in such a state.

For a moment, Rumble felt a temporary buzz in his circuits, but then it disappeared. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I really think you should–”

But Frenzy continued to protest, almost pleading with him not to go anywhere. “Ru–” A short, sporadic sound suddenly burst forth from Frenzy’s throat, and the red Cassetticon looked back at the other two in puzzlement, and cautious optimism.

“Try talking again,” Rumble encouraged, watching him expectantly.

Frenzy tried again, and this time, he managed to utter more sounds. “Ru… Que se passe-t-il–”

“Hey, he can talk again,” Onslaught said, though he was unsure about what the smaller Decepticon was trying to say. “I think.”

“Frenzy?” Rumble could only wait, and listen, and hope that his friend was alright again. “Talk to me.”

Frenzy seemed to regain more control of his vocal processor with every passing moment. He attempted to speak once more. “Ce qui le Pit vient de se passer à ma voix?” An expression of bewilderment and confusion crossed his facial features; his voice, though more or less functional again, sounded unmistakeably foreign.

No one spoke or moved for a long moment, until Onslaught finally broke the silence. “I… think we need to get him to the repair bay, A.S.A.P.”

Rumble caught his gaze, and nodded slowly in agreement.

*

When Megatron and the three seekers returned from their visit to Portland, Soundwave was already expecting them, though he appeared to be in a state of obvious discomfort.

“Ah, Soundwave,” Megatron greeted his communications officer. “What did you learn at Autobot Headquarters?” But Soundwave simply stared back at him, motionless. “Soundwave?”

Then, carefully, the blue and white Decepticon moved his head from side to side, as the four of them stared back at him in confusion.

“What is wrong with _you_?” Starscream said, breaking the awkward silence. Soundwave tried to avoid the seeker’s curious gaze, refusing to answer.

Megatron became concerned. “Soundwave? Did something happen to you during your mission?” Soundwave slowly brought his hand up to touch his neck. “Soundwave, try to answer. Can you speak?”

The communications officer just stood there uncertainly. Then, without warning, his usual, monotonic voice came to life, albeit with an obvious difference. “Mon… mon processeur linguistique semble être défectueux…”

“Did he just say something in French?” Thundercracker said quietly to the others, but they were too stunned to acknowledge him.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Starscream broke out in laughter.

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

Ratchet looked down at his two patients with a skeptical optic. He had examined both Perceptor and Wheeljack, but had found nothing physically wrong with their vocalizers. “Well, whatever’s causing your… speech impediment… it isn’t anything mechanical.”

“Can you find out what’s causing it, Ratchet?”

The Autobot medic turned to face the Autobot leader. “Well, it could be a virus of some kind, but I’ll need Perceptor’s help.”

“I knew it. It was those Decepticons! They must have infected Teletraan I with a virus,” Red Alert chimed in, his nervous state heightened by this news.

Optimus thought for a moment before replying. “Perhaps, Red Alert. Run a full systems check on Teletraan I.”

“I’ll get right to it, Optimus,” Red Alert said, before rushing off.

As if on cue, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe came rushing into the repair bay, obvious concern plastered across their faces. Jazz was right behind them.

“What do you two want?” Ratchet looked at the twins impatiently, wondering what sort of trouble they had managed to get themselves into this time. “I’m busy.”

Sunstreaker took hold of Ratchet’s arm. “Ratchet, tu dois nous aider!”

Suddenly, Ratchet felt an uncomfortable buzz and instinctively pushed Sunstreaker’s hand away. “You two are just going to have to wait–”

Sideswipe cut him off in a panicked voice. “Nous ne pouvons pas attendre! Je veux dire, nous écouter, nous sonnent comme… comme…”

“Fleurs!” Sunstreaker finished for him with a flair.

“Look, I don’t speak foreign,” Ratchet said, looking at them in puzzlement.

Behind them, Jazz chuckled, his hands on his hips. “They’re speaking Français, Ratch,” he informed the medic. “Quite eloquently, too, If I may add.” He grinned broadly, much to the twins’ chagrin.

“Français, huh?” Ratchet repeated, unimpressed. He changed the subject. “Everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been, you know that?”

Jazz shrugged. “I was just checking out the air show in Hillsboro. Say, you going to help these two out?”

The Autobot twins’ were looking back and forth at the two of them as they talked, their vulnerable, pleading expressions a rare sight to behold.

“Nous sommes désolés pour tout ce que nous avons fait. S’il vous plaît aidez-nous!” Sideswipe begged.

“Fais quelque chose, s’il vous plaît!” Sunstreaker added.

“So, you understand them?” Ratchet asked Jazz.

“I think so. Siders just apologized for everything he’s done and is begging you to help him, and Sunny’s begging for your help, too,” Jazz replied, amused. “Sorry if my French is a little rusty.”

Ratchet sighed, slowly shaking his head. Then he began to laugh.

*

But a short while later, the joke was on him. “Cela ne peut pas se passer…” Ratchet said to nobody in particular. “Je vais désactiver ces deux!”

He had been attempting to discover where this strange vocal abnormality had come from, but unfortunately his inability to speak or understand French meant that he had not been able to work successfully with Perceptor.

Then his own vocal unit had become infected with the ‘French bug’, as Jazz had coined it.

“You – you’ve got it, too!” Bluestreak said, pointing to the medic. He was obviously afraid of the virus, and made sure that he kept a safe distance away from anyone who was infected. He didn’t know why, exactly, but it felt like the safest thing to do.

“Sans blague…” Ratchet replied with sarcasm. Looking around the med bay at the infected Autobots, his processor recalled the memory of the strange buzzing sensation in his throat after Sunstreaker had touched him, and that's when the proverbial pin dropped. He rushed towards Teletraan I and hurriedly punched in some instructions. Immediately, a force field was activated, sealing access to the med bay.

“What are you doing?” Bluestreak asked, optics wide with worry and panic.

“Quarantaine,” the medic replied authoritatively.

“Quara… what?”

“Quarantaine! Quarantaine!” Ratchet repeated, rather abruptly.

“Oh, you mean… it sounds like what you’re saying is you’re quarantining the med bay?”

Ratchet looked at him impatiently. “Oui! Oui!”

Bluestreak headed towards the exit as fast as he could. “Ok, well, I’ll just be going, then. Leave you to it–”

But Ratchet gave him a sadistic smirk, crossed his arms in front of him. “Oh, pas… Vous n’allez pas n’importe où, Bluestreak.”

Bluestreak looked towards Jazz in desperation. “What did he just say?”

Jazz chuckled, finding a certain unexpected humor in this whole tragedy. “Seems that we ain’t going anywhere, Blue. We’re under quarantine.” The white and black Autobot caught Ratchet’s gaze, who nodded in satisfaction.

“No… no, no, no. Please, I – I’m not infected. Let me out of here!”

Ratchet responded, unaffected by his plea. “Vous pouvez avoir été infecté. C’est seulement une question de temps maintenant…”

Jazz translated. “I think he said… you could have already been infected, but we won’t know straight away.”

“But, I don’t want to sound French. Please!” the gunner begged.

“Would you prefer Swahili?” Jazz quipped.

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ _somewhere on the North American mainland_

After Megatron ordered Soundwave to the Constructicons’ work shop, which also served as a repair bay when needed, he tried to explain to Hook what was wrong with him.

“Would you care to repeat that?” Hook asked the Decepticon leader after an awkward explanation was followed by a long moment of silence.

“It’s Soundwave,” the voice responded over the com. “He’s… speaking French.”

“I beg your pardon?” Hook replied slowly, as he tried to picture Soundwave speaking in a foreign tongue. “French, you say?”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I said. Can you fix him?”

“Well, I…” Hook cleared his vocalizer. “Can certainly try.”

“Good. He should be there in a few minutes. Oh, and Hook?”

“Yes, Megatron?”

A hesitant pause, and then, “This is an urgent matter. It won't do us any good if our communications officer is unable to communicate properly.”

“Yes, Megatron. I'll do my best.” Then Megatron disconnected the com without any further explanation. “Well, this is certainly going to be interesting,” Hook said aloud.

Nearby, Scrapper had overheard some of the conversation. “What was that all about?”

Hook turned to look at him. “Apparently, Soundwave’s turned French.”

As Scrapper tried to fathom what, exactly, that was supposed to mean, Frenzy suddenly appeared in the entranceway, followed closely behind by Rumble. They seemed distraught, and were both talking at once.

“Hey, slow down! I can’t understand a word you two are saying,” Hook said to them, grabbing the blue Cassetticon by the arm. A sudden buzzing sensation overtook his processor, but then it quickly subsided.

“Tu dois nous aider!” Rumble looked up at him and, in a rare moment, Hook saw desperation in his optics.

Frenzy appeared to be just as distressed as his twin. “Nous ne pouvons pas continuer comme ça! S’il vous plaît, faites quelque chose!”

That’s when realization suddenly hit him; Hook now understood what Megatron had been trying to tell him. Whatever this French thing was, Soundwave was affected with it as well.

“Hm. Didn’t you two recently return from a mission?” Hook queried them. Frenzy nodded frantically.

“Siège de l’Autobot,” Rumble said, trying to fill him in.

“Siège… what? Something Autobot… Oh! You mean Autobot Headquarters?” Hook translated as best he could.

Rumble nodded enthusiastically. “Oui!”

Scrapper offered to help. “That means ‘Yes’.”

“Alright, genius, maybe _you_ can ask them what happened, then?” Hook told him.

The Constructicon leader shrugged dismissively. “Oh, no – that’s about as far as _my_ French goes.”

As Hook guided the two Cassetticons towards the examination tables, Soundwave appeared at the entrance to the work shop. He looked dejected, almost pitiful, and was hesitant to enter.

“Ah, there you are. Megatron told me about your… condition,” Hook said to him, trying to be tactful, and guided the communications officer to one of the examination tables alongside Rumble and Frenzy. Attaching various cables to their chest compartments, he started running a full systems check on each of them. “Now, let’s see what we can do about this French problem you three seemed to have picked up from the Autobots, shall we?”

*

“Would the two of you make me a promise?” Starscream glanced towards his two trine mates in a casual manner. The three of them had just received word from Onslaught that Rumble and Frenzy had been infected with the same virus that was plaguing Soundwave, and it had suddenly dawned on them that it might eventually spread to everyone at the base.

“What’s that?” Thundercracker took the bait, waited for the punch line. They were seated around a table in the common room.

“If I turn French all of a sudden, you have my full permission to knock me out cold.”

Skywarp grinned. “Sure, I’d be happy to do the honours.”

Thundercracker laughed. “You know, it’s not _that_ bad, is it?” Starscream gave them both a sour look. “Okay, maybe it _is_ that bad,” he corrected himself.

“How’d they get infected with the French bug, anyway? It’s just so _weird_ ,” Skywarp commented, giving the virus a name.

“It’s not so weird, considering where it came from,” Starscream replied. “They must have picked it up from Autobot Headquarters. What else would you expect?”

“You think Bravo gave it to the Autobots?” Thundercracker wondered.

Starscream shrugged. “Possibly. Or, perhaps–” He was cut off by a sudden commotion outside in the hall, and decided to go and investigate. The four Combaticons were crowded around their leader, all talking at once. “What’s going on here?”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, until Blast Off answered him. “It’s Onslaught. There’s something wrong with him.”

“He’s got it, too, hasn’t he?” Starscream replied without missing a beat. They stared back at him in puzzlement. “I suggest you all get to the repair bay immediately, before this thing spreads any further.” Onslaught only nodded, and then started motioning for his team to get moving.

“Allez, on y va!” he said to them.

“Oh, and Onslaught? Don’t worry, you’re in good company,” Starscream reassured him, but the Combaticon leader ignored him, noting the underlying tone of amusement in his voice.

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

Optimus Prime stood outside the med bay, quietly watching as each of his warriors, one by one, became infected with the French bug. Red Alert was the latest to fall victim to this awkward virus; he looked utterly miserable – not only for the fact that he was sounding very French, but also because he had been ordered to stay inside the med bay with the rest of the infected – a difficult pill to swallow for a security officer.

Prowl, one of the few Autobots who had so far managed to avoid the virus, stood beside his leader, uncertain on what they should do next. “Red Alert was able to isolate the virus with Teletraan I’s help, before he…” Prowl trailed off, as he watched Perceptor and Ratchet attempt to hold a meaningful conversation in a foreign tongue. Although they both spoke in French phrases, it appeared that they were incapable of actually understanding one another. It was quite comical to watch. “Became infected,” he concluded.

“It's a start.” Optimus spoke softly, as if he were afraid that he, too, might soon join the others’ fate. “I can’t just stand by and watch as those under my command fall victim to the Decepticons’ latest ploy.”

“Prime?” Prowl observed him curiously. “Why do you suppose the Decepticons did this?”

“That’s a good question, Prowl, and one that I have, as yet, no answer to,” Optimus replied.

*

Inside the med bay, Ratchet appeared to be onto something, but was having the hardest time communicating his thoughts to the others. While Bluestreak had been the latest to succumb to the French bug, miraculously Jazz was still unaffected and, thankfully, still able to translate – but barely.

“Où est le prototype, Perceptor?” Ratchet said to the Autobot scientist.

Perceptor shook his head in confusion. “Pardon?”

“Pardon… he said pardon,” Jazz translated happily.

Ratchet gave him an incredulous look. “Je sais que!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jazz cringed. Ratchet continued to glare at him, waving an impatient hand at Perceptor. “Oh, right. Uh, Perceptor, Ratchet here wants to know where the rotor-tip is–”

“Non, non – _Proto_ - _type_!” Ratchet berated, growing ever impatient.

“Okay, okay, no need to get your transistors all mixed up,” Jazz said, attempting to back Ratchet off. He turned to Perceptor and tried again. “Ratchet wants to know where the _proto-type_ is.”

“Ah, oui, oui…” Perceptor nodded. “Il devrait être dans mon laboratoire.”

“He says it should still be in the lab. I’ll go get it,” Jazz offered, but Ratchet stopped him.

“Non, non! Vous restez ici. Prowl ira,” Ratchet replied, glancing over at Prowl and Optimus Prime just outside the entrance of the med bay.

“Prowl? Look, I might be wrong about this, but if you send Prowl to get it he might get infected. Me, on the other hand, I might already be infected, but for some unknown reason I haven’t caught the bug yet even though I should have by now, since Blue over there touched me earlier.” Jazz indicated towards Bluestreak, who was huddled in a corner refusing to speak to anyone.

Ratchet had to admit that Jazz had a point. The last thing they needed was to lose any more soldiers to the French bug. “D'accord, aller.”

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ somewhere on the North American mainland

“So, can you fix them?” Megatron had stopped by the Constructicons’ work shop to check up on his ailing warriors. Scrapper and Hook had just finished examining the new victims of the French bug several minutes ago – all five of the Combaticons – and were busy trying to figure out how they might be able to reverse the affliction, while Soundwave and the two cassetticons were sitting quietly in one corner of the work shop as they waited for the Constructicons to come up with a cure.

Hook looked up from one of his readouts at the Decepticon leader. “Which would you like to hear first, the good news or the bad news?”

Megatron sighed in frustration. “What’s the bad news?” He had already put up with over an hour of French speaking Decepticons, and it was already starting to take a heavy toll on him.

“The bad news is that we may need to ask the Autobots to get Teletraan I to reverse engineer the virus code, before we all become infected.”

“Give me another option,” Megatron replied, regretfully. “What’s the good news?”

Hook continued. “The good news is that, given enough time, our in-built self-correcting mechanisms should start rejecting the French-virus-whatever-it-is that the Autobots gave us all on its own.”

Megatron nodded thoughtfully. He liked the sound of that option much better than the first one. “Good. How long will it take before my best warriors are able to safely return to duty?”

“Oh, about… a week, I’d say,” Hook answered regretfully, and then felt a slight twinge within his vocalizer. “By the way, you might want to leave now, for your own safety. I’m about to turn French as well,” he informed him.

*

“Oh no, not you, too,” Thundercracker grabbed Skywarp by the forearm and forced him along the hall in front of him. “Come on; let’s get you to the repair bay.”

The purple and black jet looked back at Thundercracker with a mixture of apprehension and curious delight, all rolled into one. “Hé, les gars, je peux parler Français!”

“Thundercracker, you might want to avoid touching him,” Starscream advised, following behind the two of them at a relatively safe distance.

“Too late,” Thundercracker replied. “We’re probably already infected, anyway.”

Starscream sighed. “The Autobots are going to pay for this.”

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

“Those Decepti-creeps are going to pay fer this,” Ironhide said out loud, as Jazz returned with the module, re-entering the med bay and handing it to Ratchet. The medic immediately grabbed it from him and connected it up to Teletraan I. After a few minutes, he grabbed Perceptor by the arm and pointed to the monitor readout.

“Hm… Teletraan I devrait être en mesure d’aboutir à un code de protection antivirus, dont nous pouvons transférer ensuite au module,” Perceptor said finally.

“Well, that might work,” Jazz replied.

“What did he say, Jazz?” Optimus Prime asked.

“He says that they can transfer an anti-virus code from Teletraan I into the module."

“I see.” Optimus stepped closer to the med bay entrance, but cautiously maintained a safe distance. “Perceptor, will it reverse the effects of the virus?”

The scientist nodded. “Elle doit, oui. Cependant… il pourrait prendre jusqu'à une semaine avant que nous devons tous revenir à la normale.”

“He says yes…” Jazz translated, but then trailed off.

“What else?” Optimus prompted after a pause.

“Well, you’re not going to like this… but, it’ll be a whole week before we're completely free of the bug's effects.”

Clamour and confusion suddenly overtook the med bay, as the infected Autobots voiced their anger and concern at the prospect of having to speak in French for another week.

It was all starting to give Optimus Prime a headache. “All right. Is there a faster way?”

Wheeljack spoke up with a sudden idea. “We pourrait demander les Decepticons de l’aide. Leurs mécanismes d’auto-réparation généralement travailler que plus rapidement que la nôtre… nous pourrions adapter leur technologie pour stimuler notre redressement.”

Optimus turned to Jazz. “Jazz?”

“Right. Uh, he says we could ask the Decepticons for help. Maybe use their stronger self-repair systems to help speed up our own recovery,” Jazz answered tentatively.

“What? No way are we gonna suck up their tail pipes, Prime – not when they infected us with this darned French bug in the first place!” Ironhide retorted.

“Would you rather we all spoke nothing but French for an entire week, Ironhide?” The tough warrior growled at the thought, but had no helpful answer. “I didn’t think so,” Prime said, and then thought about their next course of action. “All right; it’s a long shot, but we have to do something. I’ll contact the Decepticons.”

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ somewhere on the North American mainland

Starscream stood outside the Constructicons’ work shop and watched the goings on as Hook and Scrapper, who had both come down with the French bug, kept an optic on the sudden influx of patients under their care.

Skywarp was immensely enjoying himself, as he attempted to sneak up on the remaining four as-yet uninfected Constructicons in an unsolicited game of tag.

“Don’t come near me, Skywarp!” Mixmaster said, moving just out of the seeker’s reach as the latter suddenly rematerialized only a few feet away from him. “If you give me that horrendous bug, I swear I’m going to take you down with me.”

“Vous n’êtes aucun drôle, Mixmaster,” Skywarp called out to him, quite amused. “Quel est le problème, avez-vous peur des Français un peu?”

“Give it a break, Skywarp.” The black and purple seeker turned around to see Thundercracker standing beside him.

“C’est juste un peu de plaisir. T’aurais dû voir Long Haul–” Skywarp defended.

Thundercracker gave him a disapproving look. “You know, it’s bad enough having to put up with a sorry bunch of French speaking Combaticons, but do you really have to add more Constructicons to the mix?” Skywarp shrugged sheepishly.

As he heard Starscream calling him from the hallway, Thundercracker kept his gaze fixed upon Skywarp. “Just wait here, would you? Don’t go anywhere,” he said, before exiting the work shop to join the other seeker outside.

“You actually understand him, don’t you?” Starscream said to him.

“What?” Thundercracker looked at him in confusion, before he suddenly realized what the Air Commander had meant. “Oh… uh.” He looked away, avoiding Starscream’s gaze.

“You do! You do understand him, don’t you?” Thundercracker remained silent, shrugging it off. “I don’t believe it – you actually know French!” Starscream said, and laughed.

Thundercracker knew he’d been found out, and he also knew he was never going to live this one down. “Yeah, okay, so?”

“ _So_?” Starscream replied, with delight. “So, why didn’t you tell us earlier? Megatron should know about this.”

“What? Oh, no… you don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, yesI do!” Starscream said, as he began to drag Thundercracker down the hall, not taking no for an answer.

*

“Why didn’t you say something earlier, Thundercracker? Soundwave’s been driving me mad with his French tongue. I can’t understand a word he’s been saying.” In the control room, Megatron welcomed Thundercracker’s unexpected linguistic skills. “Would you translate, please?”

Thundercracker shrugged resignedly. He may as well, he thought, now that his little secret had been discovered. “Sure, why not?”

“Excellent.” Megatron turned expectantly to Soundwave. “Soundwave?”

The communications officer looked back at them listlessly. He looked worn down by his affliction, as if all he wanted to do was just go into a deep recharge and not wake up again until it was all over. “Optimus Prime est demandant à parler avec vous,” he said, the foreign speech adding some unusual variations to his usual monotone.

“Something about Optimus Prime,” Starscream said.

“Yes, I got that much,” Megatron replied, acknowledging the seeker’s humor. “Thundercracker, what is he saying?”

“He’s saying that Prime wants to talk to you,” Thundercracker answered.

Megatron became wary. “What for?” Soundwave shook his head slowly.

“He doesn’t know,” Thundercracker interpreted unnecessarily.

“This had better be good. Soundwave, open communications,” Megatron decided.

“Oui, Megatron.” Soundwave hit a few buttons on the computer terminal, and within a few seconds Optimus Prime appeared on screen.

“What do you want, Prime?” Megatron queried.

“Megatron,” the Autobot leader began. “It’s about that _virus_ that Soundwave was kind enough to infect us all with.”

Megatron looked at him incredulously. “What are you talking about? We picked up that dastardly French bug from you Autobots.”

“Hm. So, you’ve all been infected as well,” Optimus said curiously, and then sighed; he was not in any mood for game playing right now. “Look, we can’t survive an entire week like this. We… need your help.”

“Is that so?” Megatron turned and paced, thinking about how the Decepticons might be able to benefit from the situation. “We’ll do as you have requested, Prime. On one condition.”

“State your condition,” Optimus said wearily. “But make it quick. I’ve got a growing epidemic on my hands.”

The Decepticon leader looked at him uncompromisingly. “Send us the anti-virus code.”

Optimus answered him immediately. “Agreed. Stand-by for transmission.” The screen went blank, and after a few seconds they were alerted to the sound of beeping from the computer.

“Transmission réussie,” Soundwave informed them. He looked relieved.

Thundercracker translated. “We’ve got the anti-bug code.”

“Good.” Megatron returned to Prime, who had reappeared on the screen. “As soon as we’ve all safely returned to normal here, I’ll send the Constructicons over to assist you.”

Optimus leaned closer to the screen, impatient. “But that could take too long. We need them now.”

“Nonsense. With your anti-virus code, it should take us no more than a couple of breems,” Megatron casually reassured him, before signalling for Soundwave to disconnect the link.

*

_Autobot Headquarters, Pacific Northwest_

As Teletraan I’s view screen went blank, Optimus Prime hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake asking for the Decepticons’ help. Then again, extreme situations often called for extreme decisions that needed to be made.

“I don’t trust ‘em as far as I can throw ‘em,” Ironhide said, standing beside him.

“I know, Ironhide. We can only hope that Megatron keeps his end of the deal, before the two of us start speaking in French prose as well.”

*

_Decepticon Headquarters,_ _somewhere on the North American mainland_

“Hold still, Skywarp – this shouldn’t take too much longer.” Hook monitored the last of the anti-virus data transfer into Skywarp’s systems, and then disconnected the cables from his chest compartment. With the help of the anti-virus code provided by the Autobots, along with the instruction set that Frenzy had retrieved from the module at Autobot Headquarters, the Constructicon engineer had been the first to successfully recover from the French bug, and was feeling much better.

“Donc, vous dites que je vais ne parlent plus Français?” Skywarp carefully stood up from the examination table, as Hook indicated to Soundwave to take his place.

“I may be a genius, Skywarp, but I don’t understand French. Now scram, before I reinfect you with the virus.”

Skywarp grinned at him, and watched as Soundwave allowed Hook to attach the data transfer cables to his internal compartment. The cure only took a few minutes to administer, and then he was done.

“I parie que vous serez heureux une fois que vous êtes sonnant normal encore une fois… Right, Soundwave?” Skywarp said to the communications officer, and then looked towards Thundercracker standing nearby. “Oh, I can speak normal again,” he said, pleasantly surprised.

“Welcome back,” Thundercracker said, smiling.

“So why weren’t you affected, anyway?”

Thundercracker shrugged. “I dunno, I guess–”

“It’s because he knows French,” Starscream answered for him. “For some reason, the French bug will have no effect on you if you already know the language.”

“ _What_?” Skywarp looked at Thundercracker in astonishment. “And you’ve never bothered to tell us?”

“It’s not such a big deal, you know,” his friend defended. The other two looked at him sceptically, and he diverted the topic. “Well, what about you, Screamer? How come you weren’t affected?”

Starscream shrugged it off. “I guess I have a more robust defensive mechanism than the rest of you.”

Thundercracker placed a friendly hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Really? Well, that’s too bad,” he said, “’cause I was kinda looking forward to conversing with you in a little Français.”

“Not on your life,” Starscream countered.

*

_One hour later…_

Much to Megatron’s relief, Decepticon Headquarters had finally returned to normal. All those who had been afflicted by the French bug underwent a rapid and full recovery, with no sign that the virus would ever return.

And just as Megatron had promised, the Constructicons were sent to Autobot Headquarters to help the afflicted Autobots boost their self-healing mechanisms.

“I’m sure glad it’s all over,” Frenzy said to the other Decepticons in the conference room.

“You can say that again. I’ll bet Soundwave’s happy,” Onslaught replied.

The communications officer looked at them all; his confidence had obviously returned. “Soundwave is back,” he said.

“I don’t ever want to speak fluid French again,” Rumble said.

“You mean fluent?” Starscream corrected him.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“So…” Thundercracker said after a pause. “Qui voudrait coucher avec moi ce soir?” Shocked faces stared back at him, and the room was so quiet that one could have heard a micro-transistor fall to the floor. “I’m only joking,” he added, trying to diffuse the collective nervousness that had suddenly settled across the room.

The concerned faces turned into immediate relief, and then annoyance as a chorus of voices suddenly shot back at him. “Shut up, Thundercracker!”

*

_Robotic Systems and Design Laboratory, Portland. One week later…_

“Last but not least, theRobotic Systems and Design Laboratory would like to thank Optimus Prime and the Autobots, without whose help and valuable input, this project could not have been possible.”

Optimus Prime and the Autobots stood up from their seats, and the crowd applauded. The convention center was completely filled; humans had come from all around the country to see the official unveiling of the Robot Controlled Artificial Intelligence Multi-Lingual Program – the first successful joint Autobot-human project of its kind.

The applause eventually died down, and the Autobots returned to their seats as the host continued with the presentation. “Ladies and gentleman, it is my pleasure to introduce to you all the first multi-lingual artificial intelligence robot: Bravo!” The crowd applauded again. “And now, why don’t we get straight into a demonstration? Who would like to give it a try?” The host made a sweeping motion with his hand at the row of Autobots.

“Go ahead and give it a go, Blue,” Jazz encouraged the gunner.

“No, I really don’t think I should–”

“Oh, go ahead; don’t keep ‘em all waiting!” Jazz persuaded, and Bluestreak stood up uncertainly. The host motioned for him to stand in front of Bravo.

“What do I do?” Bluestreak sounded nervous.

“Just ask Bravo a question, in any language – anything you like! Don’t worry, he won’t bite, I promise,” the host replied, eliciting nervous laughter from the audience.

“Oh. Okay.” Bluestreak thought for a minute. “Uh, how about this: Bravo, who is the greatest Autobot leader of all time?”

Obediently, Bravo answered the question without effort. “Optimus Prime.”

The crowd clapped and cheered, as Optimus looked on in quiet satisfaction.

“Ask him who’s the strongest Autobot,” Ironhide prompted, but Bluestreak had a better idea.

“No, how about this one: Bravo, what is the Decepticons’ greatest weakness? Oh – in English, please?”

The convention center fell silent as everyone waited in anticipation for Bravo’s reply. “Les Decepticons ont sans faiblesses connues.”

“What? No, that ain’t right,” Ironhide said, looking suddenly nervous.

There were murmurs of confusion from the crowd, while the host did his best to divert their attention away from Bravo’s non-English response. “Ah, thank you, Bluestreak. Now, why don’t you take a seat and, uh… I’ll ask Bravo a few questions, okay?”

Bluestreak returned to his seat, and the man cleared his throat, ready to ask Bravo another question. “All right, Bravo – ahem, please tell the audience about our vision here at the Robotics Lab… in German.”

Bravo immediately responded. “Les Systèmes Robotiques et du Laboratoire de Design vision consiste à montrer la voie en robotique multilingue intelligence artificielle pour toutes les générations futures.”

The host became flustered as the crowd murmured in confusion. “Ah, that certainly was _not_ German, hm. Please bear with me one moment, folks.” He rushed towards Bravo’s control computer, checked the program that was currently running. Then he stepped back to face Bravo again. “Okay. Let’s just try this again. Bravo, please answer the following question in _English_ : what is your name and function?”

Again, Bravo responded. “Mon nom est Bravo. Je suis un multilingue d’intelligence artificielle robot. My fonction est d’interagir avec les humains dans toutes les langues connues.”

“No, no – something’s wrong.” He checked over Bravo’s program again. “Bravo, what is _wrong_ with you?” he said to the robot, initiating a full system diagnostic. “I’m so sorry about this, I don’t know what's happened…” he explained to the audience.

In the midst of the confusion, Jazz got up from his seat and approached him. “I think I know what might be wrong with our friend Bravo, here.”

The man looked up at the Autobot, anxious. “You do? What’s wrong with him?”

Jazz gave him a sheepish look. “He’s got the French bug!”

Fin!

**Author's Note:**

> See here for the English phrase translations: https://crystinedecepticon.home.blog/2017/03/16/the-french-bug/


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